


mended with cloth

by emblem_oracle



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: (but not Soren for once), Abandonment Worries, Fluff and Angst, Ike's crush develops, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:14:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25654981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emblem_oracle/pseuds/emblem_oracle
Summary: After Soren agrees to go train with another mercenary company, Ike realises that he really doesn’t want him to go.
Relationships: Ike/Senerio | Soren
Comments: 8
Kudos: 95





	mended with cloth

**Author's Note:**

> I always thought it was interesting that Soren was off training with some other mercenary group at the start of PoR. This fic basically tries to address that. 
> 
> Also, this fic pretty much only exists for the fluff. And angst. Because I live for both.

Ike couldn't really remember his early training. If Father had told him he was born with sword in hand, Ike might have just believed him. Swordplay was so embedded in him, so characteristic of everything he was, that to call bladework second nature felt like an understatement.

Ike couldn’t think of a time when he wasn’t practicing swordplay.

That said, Ike could clearly remember the day Soren arrived at the company. It was about five years ago. He was short even back then and honestly he didn’t look much different from how he did nowadays. Ike recalled being curious about him. They’d been about the same age and yet, Soren was a fully trained mage, while Ike was still a trainee.

It was also confusing because Father hired him but not as a mercenary, despite him being trained. He was taken on as a keeper of the books and, eventually, a strategist.

At twelve years old.

Looking back, Ike didn’t know what his father was thinking by hiring a child to do his accounting. At least it all worked out. 

Back to the point: unlike swordplay, Ike could remember a time without Soren.

However, over the years, Soren’s presence had become so fixed within his life, so essential, that it was hard to imagine how he ever got on without him. He was like a shadow, ever at his side. He always encouraged Ike, in his own special way, offering sage advice and pushing him to achieve. More than what he offered Ike though. He was essential to the company. They would, quite literally, be lost without him. 

That was why the thought of him leaving was a hard thought to entertain, until Ike had no choice but to. 

* * *

It was always loud in the Greil Mercenaries’ food hall, especially at this particular time of year. Winter had finally arrived which meant not only was there less work (so it was more common for everyone to be around for the evenings) but everyone was in a constant rush to eat a hot meal to warm their cold bodies.

Ike walked in, shaking rain from his cloak. He’d been training outside when he’d been caught in an unfortunate downpour. Not only was he soaked, he was cold and – most of all – hungry.

“Good evening, Ike,” Oscar greeted warmly as he handed him a bowl of soup. “How was training today?”

Ike nodded gratefully as he took the bowl. It warmed his chilled hands and he nursed it for a few moments. “Besides the rain, pretty good I think. I’m starting to feel like I’m ready to become a fully-fledged mercenary. Hopefully, Father feels the same. “  
  
“You have come a long way recently,” Oscar said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you do join us, come springtime."

“Really?”

“Of course, Ike. You have been training hard and your improvements are plain for everyone to see. Including the Commander."

Ike smiled, sitting down a few seats from where Oscar was busy cleaning his pot. Although everyone appeared to be at the fort tonight, they were a relatively small group. So, it didn’t take long to notice that two bowls had not yet been picked up.

“Where’s Soren?” Ike asked, glancing around the room. Most of the mercenaries were around, chatting as they ate, while Boyd was busy flicking the broth from his spoon at Rolf who was going red in annoyance. It was plain to see that Soren was nowhere in sight. “And where’s Father?”

“Apparently, the Commander had something to tell him. They’re in his office.”

“Oh, right,” Ike said as he turned his attention back to his food. It wasn't uncommon for his Father to discuss things with Soren, even late into the night. He was the group's strategist. Besides, Oscar's cooking could draw a person's attention away from anything, especially if you were freezing.

However, when Ike drained the bowl, sending it back to Oscar with a grateful smile, he considered the two bowls still on the side. Steam had stopped rising from them already. If they were left any longer they'd go stone cold and, knowing Soren, that would mean he just wouldn't eat it. 

Father probably wouldn't mind if he quickly passed the bowls in. He rose from the bench and picked up the bowls. 

It was somewhat difficult crossing from the dining hall all the way to his father's office. He had to make a conscious effort not to spill them across himself, or the floor. By the time he reached the office, he could feel how cold the food had gone. It was a shame but it was the best he could offer.

When he approached the door, he could hear his Father talking but, strangely, his voice was rather hushed. Ike furrowed his brow and knocked with his elbow, more concerned with the wavering broth.

Silence, then footsteps. Soren opened the door. Ike could immediately spot the tinge of tension to his brow, the creases around his eyes. It made Ike tense up in response. 

“Ike,” Soren said, face stiff. “Do you need something?”

Ike didn’t know what to make of his expression. He slightly raised the bowls in his hands. “They were going cold.”

“Ah, right. Thank you.”

“Is something going on?” Ike said carefully.

Soren seemed to consider him for a long moment. It was hard at the best of times to know what was going through his head. Ike sometimes felt that their brains were wired at completely different speeds. Soren could consider every aspect of a battlefield in the time it took Ike to decide whether he should try to swipe at his opponent's knees or not. Although Ike couldn’t tell what Soren was thinking, he could sense the multitude of thoughts shooting through his brain all at once. 

“We have received a letter from one of the mercenary companies which work around Melior,” Greil said, snapping both his and Soren’s attention away from each other. “We helped them with one of their jobs in the Summer.”

“What do they want?” Ike’s gaze flickered from father, to Soren, to father again. He put the bowls on the desk.

“We mentioned at the time that we had a mage who hadn’t used his magic for battle in a while. As they have a few mages in their company, they’ve offered to refresh Soren a little in the magical arts before he’s brought into the fold here.”

Ike processed that for a minute. He looked over to Soren whose arms were crossed across his chest, face still stern. 

“Are you going to go?” Ike asked. It surprised him the amount of dread he felt at the prospect. Soren. Gone. It was a strange thing, an uncomfortable thing, to consider.

Soren sighed deeply as he tapped his foot. “It’s a fantastic opportunity,” he seemed to admit with some resignation. “I would undoubtedly be more useful in combat with extra training than if I were to join as I am. Beyond that, this particular company has access to the Melior archives. It’s a difficult offer to refuse.”

“So, you’re leaving?” Ike swallowed thickly.

Soren frowned. “I don’t know. I have many responsibilities here and nobody to cover them. I have not yet budgeted out the Winter food stockpile, for example. I will also be gone for some time, if I accept.

“We will figure out a way to manage around your duties if you choose to go,” Father informed him. “Look, you don’t have to go if you don’t wish to. I'm not going to say your precense will not be missed. However, as you said, it is a very good opportunity.”

Soren’s frown deepened.

Listening to Father, it almost sounded like Soren would be a fool not to go. And Soren had never been a fool. The realisation sunk within Ike, slow and sharp. Although Soren didn’t seem happy, it was also not hard to see what his choice would be.

“How long will you be gone?” Ike asked, trying to contain his disappointment. 

“Till the end of Spring,” Soren said.

“That long?”

Soren nodded. “Unfortunately so. Though, I should imagine I’ll be more useful after I return.”

“Wow,” Ike said as he scratched at his neck. It was hard to really know what to say. So, he went with, “I suppose I should say congratulations, then! I’ll miss you. It’s probably going to be really weird without you around.”

It was an easy thing to admit but, judging from Soren’s reaction, it was a somewhat unexpected thing to hear. He seemed to draw into himself for a few moments before the tension in his facial expression eased. He looked down. “I’ll miss you too, Ike.”

Ike offered him a smile.

Greil reached across the desk for the bowl of now cold soup. “Well, with that settled, we shall prepare for your departure.”

Soren picked up his own bowl and twirled the spoon. He always had to mess with his food before eating it. It was just one of his quirks. “It shouldn’t take me long to prepare. If I am to leave, I would rather leave sooner than later. Just give me time to pack and finish my incomplete duties and I shall be off.”

“How long should all that take?” Greil asked.

“Tomorrow night, most likely. I would prefer not to dally.”

Tomorrow night. That was so soon.

“Very well. Tomorrow night it is,” Greil smiled as he dug into another spoonful of soup. Soren continued to fiddle with his spoon. 

* * *

That night, Ike dreamed he was surrounded by a raging storm.

Strong winds clawed at his arms, drawing blood with knife-like scratches, and beating him down into the dirt. The rain pooled at his feet. It was hard to hear, hard to breathe. It was everything he could do to keep standing.

Soren stood before him, embraced by the storm, back facing him. Ike reached out a hand to try and grab hold of his robes, to leverage himself up, to pull Soren towards him… he wasn’t sure why. It didn’t really matter why. The wind pushed him back, pushed him down.

Panic hammered in his chest. He couldn’t reach. He was too far; Soren was too far. 

Soren stood, unfazed by the thundering weather, or by his frantic attempts to grab at his robes. Water pooled up to his knees. Ike looked down and realized the water was climbing and climbing, faster and faster.

 _“Soren!”_ he shouted into the storm. _“Soren! Turn around, please!”_

He felt like everything would resolve itself if Soren would just turn around, would just look at him. Yet, Soren was deaf to his cries. Worse, he began to walk away, completely unimpeded by the same water which threatened to drown Ike.

Ike shouted and clawed at the watery puddles which had now encased his legs.

_Come back, Soren! Please! Just come back! Don’t go!_

Soren disappeared into the rain.

The water climbed to his throat, then his mouth.

Ike woke up coughing.

* * *

Soren’s departure was rather understated. He sorted company affairs throughout the day and by night, he left with only a few quick goodbyes to most of the mercenaries and a handful of belongings.

“I’ll walk you to the end of the fort,” Ike insisted after everyone else vanished indoors to avoid the chill. It wouldn’t be long before it snowed.

“If you insist,” Soren said as he pushed his hood over his head.

It was a quiet night. Moonlight shone unimpeded across the sky. Soren’s hair looked emerald green under it. Ike sometimes forgot his hair was actually a dark green instead of black.

They walked to the end of the path in silence, except for their boots against gravel. When they finally reached the end of the fort, Ike braced himself to say his final goodbyes when Soren opened his mouth.

“I have something for you.”

Ike’s eyebrows shot up. Soren was never really someone who got people gifts. He thought they were frivolous and unnecessary, so it was fair to say Ike’s curiosity was peaked. Soren reached into his bag and quickly pulled out a long piece of green fabric. Ike tilted his head curiously, not really understanding its purpose.

“It won’t be long before Commander Greil lets you join the company proper,” Soren said. “In true battle, even the smallest distraction or irritation can spell death. This should help keep your hair out of your face. It’s not much and doesn’t possess any real value but I thought you… might like it, regardless.”

Ike reached out a hand and picked up the green fabric. It was a bandana; he could see now. Ike smiled inwardly. Trust Soren to get him something in his favourite colour.

“Thanks,” Ike said, reaching up to tie the bandana around his head but then he stopped himself. He considered Soren, standing in front of him.

“Actually…” Ike bit the inside of his lip. He thought of the dream. Of Soren walking away. He didn't think Soren would abandon him, not truly, but in so many ways, Soren was in front of him. Ahead. If he chose to leave, Ike wouldn't blame him. In many ways, Ike wondered if the mercenary company was beneath him. If he himself was beneath him.

“Could you tie this on for me?” Ike said finally. 

“Sorry?” Soren looked taken aback.

“Could you tie this on? It’ll probably be easier than me doing it myself.”

Honestly, that was probably true, but it wasn’t why Ike had asked.

He didn’t really know why he’d asked. He only knew that he wanted this.

Soren started at the bandana in his hand before he approached with some caution. He reached his arms up to pull the bandana around Ike’s head and began to tie the fabric from the front. Soren’s fingers were surprisingly deft and light. Ike could barely feel his touch as he looped the cloth into a knot before he rotated the bandana so that the smooth side was in the front. 

As he worked, Ike was drawn to his eyes. His scarlet eyes glittered in the few dapples of moonlight. Ike had never seen rubies, but he wondered if they looked the same.

It was a thought that surprised him. He had never really thought of Soren’s eyes… or his hair… or his mouth. Maybe it was because he was leaving, Ike supposed. Still, those thoughts didn't concern him. 

They felt right. Natural. Like swinging a sword.

Slowly, Soren drew away. “I promise I’ll return,” Soren said softly. He smiled then, hesitant and small, a slight curve of the lips which Ike did not yet know was reserved for him, and for him alone.

Ike smiled in return. “Make sure you do.”

Soren nodded and turned. His hair blended with the inky darkness like he belonged within it. The wind whipped at his robes. He walked a few steps and Ike was reminded again of his dream, of Soren turning and never looking back.

But unlike his dream, Soren turned. He stopped. He offered Ike one final nod.

Of course. Of course. Soren would return when spring came. He would. 

Ike raised his hand in farewell.

Then Soren turned again and was gone.

* * *

Soren was not there when Ike was finally freed from trainee status. Yet, the bandana Soren had given him remained fixed to his forehead, a constant reminder that Soren would come back.

When Soren returned with the war and Ike’s life turned to turmoil, he often comforted himself with the thought that Soren would remain, ever his most treasured of companions.


End file.
